Price
by lacemonster
Summary: Based on an ask/prompt for: BruDick - "giving in" - as nsfw as you want. Bruce doesn't know how to take a joke. Dick doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut [BruDick, explicit content]


**Warnings** : incest; daddy kink; rough sex

 **Pairings** : Bruce/Dick

 **Credits** : This is a non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. This fanfiction was written and created by me.

 **A/N** : Based on an ask/prompt for: BruDick - "giving in" - as fucked up and nsfw as you want.

Sorry it's been awhile since I've posted. I've been posting on AO3 and I keep forgetting to cross-post here.

I'm no longer accepting requests but I am taking commissions. If you're interested, check my tumblr at lacemonsterbats.

* * *

At this time, people were slowly filtering out of the building. Chimes of laughter and clicking heels faded off into the distance. Standing outside, waiting for Alfred to pull up with the car, Dick caught the familiar face of the fashion heiress that he shared a table with. They locked eyes and Dick forced a pleasant smile, waving goodbye to her and her escort. When he turned back around, he found that Bruce hadn't waved at all.

Unable to contain his irritation, Dick said, "Come on. They were nice. You could at least keep up with appearances."

Bruce didn't seem to appreciate Dick throwing his lectures back in his face. He remained silent, still insistent on giving Dick the cold shoulder.

Dick seethed. He crossed his arms, wondering over and over again where Alfred was, and with the perfect timing that was characteristic of the butler, a familiar car pulled up in front of them.

"How was dinner?" Alfred said. They were already climbing in before he could hold the door for them.

" _Fine_ ," they both said sharply, slamming their doors.

"Lovely," Alfred said, his tone dry.

Wisely not pressing the matter, Alfred simply set the car in motion.

* * *

Dick had carefully constructed everything he wanted to say. All he needed was the right opportunity to say it. He bided his time, waiting for the chance to strike. If Bruce didn't talk, then Dick would force the conversation, but he didn't want to give Bruce the upper-hand of _you started it_.

They rode through the long, silent car ride, walked up the manor, up the stairs, and it wasn't until they were in the privacy of their own bedroom that Bruce finally slipped:

"I can't believe the nerve of that woman—and _you_ , for encouraging it."

Dick let loose.

"First of all, it was an innocent question. She wasn't being judgmental, she was being genuine. You _saw_ the guy she was with. Second of all, what was I _supposed_ to do? Get all angry and broody, like you? It was easier to laugh it off. And lo and behold, what do you know? She apologized! Can't you let _anything_ go?"

Dick threw himself onto the giant plush mattress, still brewing in his anger. Bruce Wayne knew how to throw on a corny smile and deflect every social hiccup, but there was no mercy for Dick, _ever_ , even if they were in public.

Bruce immediately went to the closet. Dick was certain the man was going to revert to his usual silence. To his surprise, Bruce went on, "It was a crass thing to say. Offensive, even. I'm entitled to be upset."

"What do you expect, Bruce?" Dick said. He sat up but only got a good look at Bruce's back. He was about to spit out _you're old_ , but then decided that maybe he didn't want to stir the pot _that_ much. Instead, he settled for, "I'm a younger guy with no real career. It was only natural that she'd assume—"

"That's not a natural assumption! I have brought plenty of women on dates and I've never been faced with that accusation." Darkly, Bruce muttered, "Maybe it is because you're a younger _guy_."

"All of your dates in the past had long pedigrees. I'm just me. Look. You're a rich, white, male billionaire. You can't actually be ignorant as to how people perceive you!"

"Her remarks aside, I'm in disbelief that you encouraged it instead of dismissing it," Bruce said, finally turning on him. Dick felt affronted by that cold, narrowed look in Bruce's eyes. "You should have explained from the start that we were dating instead of playing around." Bruce shook his head to himself, cursed quietly under his breath. "I'm starting to think that _is_ how you see me."

Dick couldn't help the rise of anger that rose up inside of him. With more than a hint of aggression laced with his sarcasm, he spat back, "Yes, Bruce. That's exactly how I see you! Fifteen plus years of being friends and partners and _that's_ how I see you. God, it was a _joke_ —"

"Not a good one," Bruce said, cross. And that was that. Finished with the conversation, he turned back around, hanging up his jacket.

Dick sighed to himself, hanging his head. He sat on the edge of the bed, stared down at his feet for a moment, then kicked off his shoes.

The nice thing about dating someone who remembered everything: Bruce could always pull up a good memory, never forgot a date, and remembered all of Dick's favorites.

The bad thing about dating someone who remembered everything: all it took was one stupid _sugar daddy_ joke to put a permanent scar on their relationship.

Dick felt the other half of the mattress sink. Truthfully, Dick was still angry, and he still had a few haughty comments resting on his tongue—specifically, _what would you know about a good joke_ —but experience kept him from opening his mouth.

The way Dick saw it, the night could end in one of two ways: they could make up and Dick could peel Bruce out of his suit, which is what he had hoped to do all night, or they could just sulk in uncomfortable silence until they turned in early, which is how Bruce usually ended his nights. And really, avoiding the latter option wasn't even about Dick's desires or being 'the better man'—at this point, he just didn't want to give Bruce the satisfaction of letting things end _his_ way.

So Dick slid across the bed, slinking his arms around Bruce. He looked over his shoulder, his fingers idly playing with the necktie, digging into the knot.

"I'm sorry," Dick said, lowering his voice. He tried to keep his actions gentle, delicate. "You know I didn't mean it, right?"

And Bruce, _actually_ being the better man, paused and finally said, "I know."

Bruce tilted his head toward him. Dick met him the rest of the way, pressing his lips against his. Instantly, Dick felt this wave of relief settle over him. He let his anger fade, focusing on the warmth of Bruce's lips.

His fingers eased up the tie, loosening it. Bruce turned toward him, the mattress sinking under his knees, and deepened the kiss. Dick's hands unbuttoned the top of Bruce's shirt, getting lucky with the normally finicky buttonhole on the first try, and smoothed his hands through the opening of Bruce's shirt.

Dick caught a faint hint of champagne as Bruce deepened the kiss, filling his mouth with his tongue. Dick felt heat rise to his cheeks, his body leaning into Bruce's.

Bruce's arms held him. Dick felt his heartrate start to pick up, feeling Bruce's hands grip his body. When Bruce pulled him to the mattress, Dick held him close, fingers twined around his collar, mouth moving faster, sucking on Bruce's bottom lip, kisses travelling to his jawline and neck.

Dick could hear Bruce rummaging through the bedside drawer and felt a spark of surprise. Neither of them were the type to rush into things, though they were more than capable of it when the situation arose, but Dick supposed it was a late night. Either way, he didn't question it. Bruce could make Dick feel weak in any suit but that night in particular, Dick had been eyeing him closely, and he was more than ready to roll with whatever Bruce had planned.

Bruce's free hand moved towards Dick's vest, fumbling on the button. Dick's eyes blinked open in surprise when he felt a light tug. Dick glanced down, seeing where the links of Bruce's watchband had snagged on one of his buttonhole threads. Between this and the scurry for the lube, Dick felt a flicker of amusement at Bruce's uncharacteristic haste, a barely contained smile quickly rising to his face. Before he had the sense to gauge Bruce's mood, the joke seized Dick, and he spat it out like it was life or death:

"Easy, Daddy. Not so fast."

The lips on Dick's cheek stopped.

Bruce backed up, looking at Dick. His eyes instantly went cold.

Dick's stomach dropped.

Oops.

 _Dick, you fucking idiot_.

Bruce got off of Dick, moving back to the other side of the bed. Ignoring the impulse to pull out his own hair, Dick immediately chased after him, his hand taking Bruce's shoulder.

"Hey, I'm sorry—I'm sorry, that crossed the line, I'll admit—"

Bruce grabbed Dick by the wrist, harder than Dick expected. Dick didn't even blink in the time Bruce yanked him in, their faces drawn close, noses nearly touching.

Dick instantly shrank in place, his breath caught in his throat—Bruce was always hyper aware of his own strength, never overextending even when Dick wanted him to, and while Bruce's physical anger was incredibly rare, Dick knew it was not something to be trifled with.

Dick had poked the old bear one too many times. He knew that. But he still felt shocked by the bruising grip on his wrist, his eyes unable to tear away from Bruce's steel glare.

"You're being a very bad boy right now," Bruce said. The low, deep aggression in his voice made the hairs on the back of Dick's neck stand. The term "boy", which Bruce hadn't used on him in a long time—in what, over a decade?—and was Bruce's preferred endearment for the standing Robin, made Dick feel like he was being talked down to like an actual child, and his face burned at the sudden humiliation.

Dick quickly looked over Bruce's face, looking for the usual signs of Bruce putting up a front, trying to determine if he was serious or not. Trying to determine if Bruce was furious or if this was some sort of mind test or—

Not willing to chance it, Dick, voice nearly breathless, managed, "Bruce, I just—"

"Stop. No excuses. You've been testing daddy's patience all evening. Did you think daddy wouldn't punish you?"

The warmth on Dick's face now spread to the rest of his body. What should have been shocking and shaming behavior now felt arousing. Dick suddenly felt too shy to answer, so thrown off that he wasn't sure how to play along, still wondering if this was some sort of test. Bruce's intense gaze was intimidating, rendering Dick speechless.

Bruce's grip tightened. Dick winced.

"Answer me."

"No," Dick said, fast.

"No, you weren't testing my patience? Or no, you didn't think I would punish you?" He spoke at a volume that Dick wasn't used to hearing from him. The rushed, heated words demanded a quick response.

"No, I wasn't trying to make you angry—"

"Because I just want to make sure we're clear. Were you trying to cause trouble—"

" _No_ —"Dick was five seconds from pulling his hand back, his face burning, heart pounding in his chest. All the while, even in his anger, Bruce had this authoritative control over himself, his anger more commanding than wild.

"I don't believe you," Bruce said and Dick could feel his heartrate picking up, drumming through his ears. He held his breath, hanging on Bruce's every word, nerves mixed with excitement. "You had no business talking like that, in front of all those people. You were trying to show off. I've been spoiling you. I think it's time to remind you how daddy deals with crass boys."

Dick could barely piece together how quickly this was all happening. Before he knew it, he was shoved face first into the mattress, his aching hand placed to the center of his back. Bruce was a strong man. Dick had sparred with him many times, testing out different levels of his strength, and while Dick was certain Bruce wouldn't try to hurt him, Bruce's level of force _felt_ dangerous.

Even so, Dick could feel his body growing hot, a familiar thrill in his veins. Bruce leaned over his body, weight pushing down on Dick, and Dick felt a pang up his arm and back. He jerked up, trying to reposition, trying to buck Bruce off of him, but Bruce seemed to bear down even more forcefully. Dick's face was pushed into the mattress, his vision dark against the sheets.

"Stay still," Bruce said, breath hot against Dick's ear, and Dick's eyes fluttered shut, feeling dazed. He was aware of his cock, completely erect in his pants, pushed up against the mattress. The heat coming off of Bruce, whose body laid directly on top of his, felt intoxicating. When Dick breathed in, he could still catch the faint fragrance of the night on Bruce's breath. Senses blocked off, Dick was only attuned to Bruce's presence, which seemed to envelop him.

Dick bucked up again and he grunted at his own effort. In the process, he felt his rear push back into Bruce's groin. Dick couldn't tell if Bruce was erect but he imagined he was, and that was enough to make his own cock pulse.

One hand had Dick's arm pinned to his back, the other hand was snaking its way in between his body and the bed. Dick bit his lip, nearly groaning as Bruce wrangled his pants past his hips, over his ass. He pushed back, liking the wrestling, liking the rough handling, even liking the soreness and pain. Bruce rocked forward— _fuck_ , he was definitely hard—and Dick moaned into the sheets, his breath hot.

Dick listened to the zipper teeth come undone. Felt his clothing get yanked past his hips, over his ass. His cock, not quite free from his underwear, was still trapped, hot and stiff against the fabric. Dick listened to clamor of Bruce's belt and zipper, heard the pop of a bottle. Dick's cock was so hard it was leaking precum.

Head spinning, body burning and shaking, Dick couldn't find the energy or the motivation to fight. He was ready, so ready. By the time he could feel Bruce's cock against his crease, slick and hot and heavy, Dick was already aching for it, damn near ready to beg for it.

Nerves and caution thrown aside, Dick gasped, "Yes, daddy. Fuck me, Bruce."

Dick pushed his forehead into the mattress, his free hand twisting in the sheets, groaning deep as Bruce started to push inside of him. He was craving it. He wanted that feeling of Bruce buried deep inside of him, wanted that familiar stretch. His body felt trapped and hot underneath his clothes, his hips remaining still despite the desperate desire to rub his cock against the mattress. He stuck through all the pain, all the discomfort, for the sake of wanting Bruce. Wanting him to fuck him, fuck him now, fuck him hard.

His whole body tensed as Bruce pushed deeper and deeper inside, stretching him wide. Dick's breaths were shortening, the focus on his ass opening up for Bruce distracting him from the heavy pressure and ache of Bruce holding him down.

Bruce stayed there for a moment, his cock buried deep inside of Dick. Dick felt so full, his body tense with anticipation for Bruce to move, while still fighting the ache that was spreading from his shoulder to his arm. Dick listened to Bruce's quiet sigh, his voice making the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

A hand steadied itself on Dick's head. Bruce thrusted, his cock burying deep inside. Dick groaned, Bruce's weight coming down on him, his arm still pinned painfully with the heavier man on top of him. Bruce moved again, his thrusts rocking Dick into the bed. Bruce kept pounding into Dick, pushing him deeper in the mattress, his thick cock stretching Dick open.

Despite the discomfort in the position, the soreness in his arm, the shortness of his breaths, Dick's arousal grew. He was used to the plunge of Bruce's cock, loved the familiar friction, the stretch, the heat. He liked the way his cock was pressed against the bed, pushing up against it with each thrust. Liked the sounds of their bodies colliding.

Bruce's weight released off of Dick. Dick finally had his arm back, could feel the tension and relief when he placed his arm somewhere comfortable. He could hear the rustle of fabric, Bruce taking off his shirt. Dick could hear the occasional ring of his hanging belt buckle. All the while, as Bruce was inside of him, his hips still as he undressed, Dick felt uneasy. He desperately wanted Bruce to resume, resisting the urge to push back on his cock.

Suddenly, Bruce's hands were on him. Releasing a breath of surprise, Dick let Bruce's fast, rough hands pull at his tie, loosening it. Fingers dug under his collar, and Dick was shocked out of his daze when Bruce yanked, buttons popping, fabric ripping.

"Bruce," he said, startled.

"I'll just buy you a new one," Bruce said, so careless that Dick was stunned silent.

His face burned hot as Bruce wrangled his hand through the opening of his shirt. His head tilted forward, long bangs in his eyes, as Bruce teased his chest, callused fingers brushing over his nipples. Dick's body tensed then shuddered, pleasure coiling his stomach, nipples hardening underneath Bruce's hands. His eyes closed, focusing on Bruce, Bruce inside him, Bruce touching him. Dick pushed backed on Bruce's cock, wanting him to move again. He needed that sensation of Bruce driving in and out, plowing deep inside. Bruce's fingertips tightened painfully around Dick's nipple, and Dick moaned in pain behind closed lips, his hips stopping.

"Spoiled boy. You always were impatient, could never sit still."

Bruce's words felt a little too personal, enough to fluster Dick.

Bruce gave a long thrust, giving Dick the full length of his cock. When Dick tried to relax his body, something pulled him back. Dick gasped as the necktie pulled across his throat, forcefully craning his neck back. Bruce held him there, fist wrapped tight around the tie, the other hand digging into Dick's hip to steady his thrusts.

Dick cried out, the sound strained by the fabric digging into his Adam's apple, as Bruce drove into him harder, faster. The sounds of Bruce fucking him seemed to grow louder, balls clapping against the back of his ass, the occasional sharp breath or guttural moan from Bruce.

Dick could feel heat prickling to his face, his hard cock bouncing between his legs with every thrust. The tie was digging into his neck now, putting pressure against his throat, Dick's moans shortening his already restricted breath. Bruce's fucking quickened, driving into Dick with fast, shallow thrusts that rocked Dick forward. Dick could feel himself sweating against his clothes, a faint sheen on his throat, his exposed chest, between his thighs.

"Is this what you wanted?" Bruce challenged, voice dark and vicious. Dick couldn't swallow, could only gasp with already parted lips. He was so hard he ached, the authority in Bruce's voice only making him more aroused. "Do you like me fucking you like you're my property?"

Dick couldn't quite answer, could barely swallow, much less speak with the constriction around his throat. But when Bruce's hips snapped harder against his, Dick knew that Bruce wasn't going to let up unless he received some sort of response.

"Yes—"

" _Yes_?" Bruce repeated, voice rising, and Dick knew instantly that he had answered wrong. Not even given a chance to correct his mistake, not even given a chance to really _think_ , Bruce's words drilled into him harder, so forceful that he sounded angry. "Is this fun for you? Should I punish you harder?"

And God, the worst part was that it was tempting, but Dick's head was pulled back so far it ached, his head feeling dazed and fuzzy. More than that, Dick could no longer find the balance in Bruce, couldn't decide how much of his anger was real, and for once, Dick found himself afraid to take the risk.

Heart beating nervous and fast, Dick said, "No—"

"No, what?"

"No, daddy."

Bruce released the tie and Dick caught himself, elbows propping himself up from falling facefirst into the mattress. Dick felt instant relief around his throat, his shaking hand rubbing the sore flesh. His breaths and gasps were haggard as Bruce relentlessly continued, fucking into him hard, both hands yanking on Dick's hips to force him back onto his cock.

Without leashing him with the tie, Bruce was able to focus on just fucking. His thrusts became more purposeful, his pace easing into a steady rhythm, in and out, in and out. Dick moaned low, Bruce's cock hitting him just right. Dick's head felt hazy, his eyes falling shut, cock throbbing as Bruce fucked him just the way he liked. Dick let Bruce take control, simply keeping his thighs spread as Bruce carved deep inside him.

DIck recognized the throatiness of Bruce's breaths. The voice alone made a shudder run down his spine, his body tensing in anticipation.

Dick reached between his legs to touch himself, wanting to finish with Bruce, wanting to come with Bruce deep inside him.

Bruce yanked his hand away, stopping him. Dick gritted his teeth, a flare of frustration rising up inside his chest. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Bruce—please, Bruce—"

Dick was cut off by his own groan, his voice rising as Bruce pinned his wrist against the bed. His pleas slurred together, muffled by the sheets, but Bruce ignored it. He was close, Dick could sense it—yet it still happened so soon. Bruce groaned deep, doubling over, his cock pushed in all the way and hips stilling as he finished. Dick gasped as Bruce finished inside him, hot seed filling him up. Dick's thighs trembled, pushing back to get all of Bruce inside of him, eyes rolling back at the sensation. He was so hard it hurt.

Bruce pulled out. Dick's face went hot, hearing Bruce pull out, followed by the drip of seed that rolled down his crease. He gasped quietly as Bruce slowly pushed back in, giving a few thrusts, pumping the ejaculate in deeper, the wet squelches making Dick moan softly.

Dick bit his lip, his right hand still trapped in Bruce's grip. He needed to touch himself so badly. Bruce was still moving inside of him, gently rocking back and forth.

Unable to take it any longer, Dick sighed, "Bruce?"

Bruce didn't respond, simply pulled out slow. A shiver ran down Dick's spine at the sound.

"Daddy," he tried instead. "I want to finish."

"Then ask."

Dick's face burned, this dull spark of rebellion still lingering inside of him, but he shoved it inside. He was way past pride now. It was easier to just give in.

"Can I please touch myself?"

Bruce released his hand. Dick didn't even wait to go into a more comfortable position, immediately taking his cock and stroking himself. His neglected erection throbbed under his touch and Dick moaned, inhaling deeply, his voice rising with every moan, every stroke. His wrist quickened, stroking and stroking, his cock pushing into his hand. Tremors ran through his body, hips tilting toward his fist, over and over, until finally— _finally_ —he finished.

His orgasm pushed through him, heat and pleasure racing through him. His whole body shook and stuttered as he filled his hand. By the time it was over, he was out of breath, and sluggishly fell onto his side.

He took a moment, catching his breath. He was a mess, the smell of sex and sweat in the air pervasive. After taking a second to relax, letting his breathing even out, he finally started to peel off his clothes. Rolling onto his back, he saw Bruce at the edge of the bed, also undressing.

Bruce, who had to have eyes in the back of his head, must have caught Dick watching him. For once, he was the one to break the ice, saying, "I still think it's weird."

Despite his exhaustion, Dick was able to get out one laugh.

"Whatever. You run around in a _leather bat suit_." When Bruce didn't respond to his quip, Dick shut his eyes. Sex really didn't solve anything, no matter how good it was. That or—Dick just could never win with Bruce. Dick sighed heavily and said, "What, was that also taking it too far?"

"No," Bruce said, surprising Dick. Bruce turned his head away. "That one was actually funny."


End file.
